Announcement

In the Christian liturgical calendar, we are approaching what is referred to as “Holy Week.” It is the time we remember the events of Jesus’ last week, beginning with Palm Sunday and ending with Easter. It is, without a doubt, the most theologically rich week of the year, and it invites us all to do more than buy Easter bonnets and make brunch reservations.

In an effort to walk through the week together, I will be sending a Brushstroke a day throughout the week. I do this not to overwhelm or annoy, just to offer a way to stay focused at a time when it is easy to go through the motions.

I hope you don’t mind.

The Miracle Happened Again

“This morning, the miracle happened again,” said the recovering alcoholic. “I woke up without the urge to drink.” It was something he says often, but this morning his perspective on his recovery, on life itself, struck me in a meaningful way.  

For him, each day is a new adventure. For him, each day is an opportunity for a new start. For him, each day is full of miracles happening, as if for the first time.

It's a perspective we all would do well to adopt, even if we don’t struggle with addiction. Today can be a new adventure, a new start, and an opportunity for the miracle to happen again, as if for the first time. Our miracles may vary, but they happen never the less, particularly if we have eyes to see, ears to hear, and hearts to receive. 

Like the man in the meeting, we, too, can joyfully say: “Today, the miracle happened again . . .

We heard a child’s steps in her room upstairs.

We were able to walk.

We had a job.

We were forgiven.

We forgave.

We were able to see.

We were able to hear.

We loved.

We were loved.

We learned something.

We read something.

We took a walk in nature.

We had food to eat.

We slept in our own bed.

We were able to breathe.

We laughed.

We were touched, inspired, and/or surprised.

We noticed clouds.

We got to do something we loved.

We were able to pay our bills.

We called our parent.

We heard birds sing.

We were able to remember.

We created something new.

We felt someone’s hand in ours.”

Not a bad way to spend a day!

Know and Be Known

She had that look. I’d seen it enough to recognize it, but it was unsettling still. Led by hand into the coffee shop, placed in her seat, and chaperoned while another went to get coffee, her vacant look and inability to sit by herself made the tragedy that is Alzheimer’s visible.

Her son tried to connect with her, but there was no recognition. She did not know who he was, and, for all intents and purposes, he didn’t know the woman across the table either.

In seminary, I was taught the concept called “via negativa,” which is seeing or learning something through its opposite. Like a vase given shape and definition by the darkness and shadow surrounding it, the son and mother across from me revealed one of the most important things about being human: knowing, and being known.

It’s been said, God created us not because he needed us, but because God longed to be in relationship. In other words, God sought to know and be known. We, too, have a similar hunger, both spiritually and personally. It’s what makes us human, but it’s as difficult as it is essential. To know is to open one’s heart. To be known is to open one’s arms. Neither is easy, yet they represent the key to a full and meaningful life.

Across from me is an example of life without knowing and being known. That it’s a mother and son makes the vacancy all the more painful, and yet it can serve as a stark reminder of the opportunity we’ve been given.

Today.

This minute.

Whether with God, or another, time is of the essence. We can take the risk and open our hearts and our arms, know and be known, or we can live detached lives. The choice is ours. Unfortunately, the mother and son across from me no longer have that choice.